Page 22 of Claiming Liberty

I give him a small, slow smile and hand him my glass. “I’m finished. I flew overnight, so I’m fucking exhausted.” I motion for the door. “I’m headed home and going to bed.”

He claps me on the shoulder. “All right, man. Well, it’s good to see you. I’ll come check on you this evening, make sure you haven’t drank yourself to death.” He gives me a playful wink. “We’ll catch up more then. I want to hear what your old man had to say about you being back.”

When he laughs, I return it. “I’m sure you could guess.”

I raise a hand in a wave and turn toward the door.

“See ya later,” Sawyer calls to my back.

I lift two fingers then tuck my hands into my pockets while strolling through the manor, the back door my destination. My relief is so strong, I’d whistle if I was the laid-back type of person who did that sort of thing. I’m not sure I’d even know how.

Liberty’s safe.

She’sfine.

Peter was right.

I laugh to myself and allow my lips to relax into a small smile. Everything’s going to work out fine. Lib will get the life she wants and deserves, and I’ll find a life for myself as well.

I’m going to move back to Spain. The decision has been gnawing at my insides, but I know now it’s the right one. I’ll give myself another year here, long enough to help Sawyer slowly adjust to doing things without needing me by his side, but then I’m gone. No more black eyes, no more tears, no more women cringing at the sight of me.

I’ll just be me. Angel. Uncle, brother, and someday maybe even son. I can do that. I can be that guy. Iwantto be that guy.

I’m still smiling when I approach the playroom, but my lips fall and my steps slow when I pass by the open doors. I turn around and stare inside, my brows bunching.

That girl looked so fucking terrified… If Sawyer did something to reassure her, it didn’t work.

Does she know she’s safe here? Is she still detoxing, still in pain?

I want to believe that if she needed something, someone would have gotten it for her, but Lib is in my head again. Lib was a special case, I know that, but she was almost brutally raped by one of the guards. She asked for my help,neededmy help, and if she hadn’t, I would’ve continued to be oblivious to what Sawyer was allowing to happen.

He said he wouldn’t turn a blind eye again. The girl should be fine… Right?

I face forward and take a few more steps toward my destination but stop again. Annoyance at myself flares, and I groan while turning around and heading for the playroom.

Amari stands at a bar across the room with cases of glasses stacked in front of her. When she hears me shut the doors, she looks over at me, tumbler in hand. No sign of Prudence.

Amari sets the tumbler on the counter and gives me a timid wave. I stride through the playroom, the sound of my steps bouncing off the walls.

“Hey,” I say when I get close. Amari eyes me warily. She’s almost unrecognizable without the heavy coat of makeup and gaudy jewelry she wears while she bartends, but the wariness in her features is even more out of place. She’s one of few women whoisn’tnervous around me. I’d even call us friends.

I flatten my palms against the bartop. “Have you seen Prudence?”

Amari’s head lowers, and glass clinks at her feet. I lean forward and look down at Prudence who is kneeling on the floor behind the bar. There’s a wooden crate with liquor bottles in it that I’m guessing she was moving onto the shelf before I came in.

“Hey there,” I say, trying to make my voice sound as warm as possible.

She glances up at me for only a moment before putting her attention on the bottle in her hand. She stands and carefully places it on the shelf behind Amari.

“Prudence, Mr. A is talking to you,” Amari says, a warning in her tone.

I give Amari a disapproving look, and she goes back to the tumblers on the bartop, unloading each and setting them behind the bar.

Prudence slowly turns, her head down as she takes two steps toward me. A foot and a half of marble separates us.

“Hi,” I try again. “I’m Sawyer’s friend. I noticed you were crying earlier and just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she squeaks, fidgeting with her hands.